


Half of a Mind of You

by TheRealDanniX



Series: Adventures in Mind Reading [1]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Based on a Tumblr Post, First Kiss, Fluff, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Feelings, I'm Bad At Tagging, Idiots in Love, Jaskier | Dandelion Loves Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, M/M, No Beta, Roach Ships It (The Witcher), Tooth-Rotting Fluff, but we'll figure it out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-12
Updated: 2020-04-12
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:54:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23605618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRealDanniX/pseuds/TheRealDanniX
Summary: “If you can walk with that hangover I can smell on you.” Once again, the voice came with no movement of Geralt’s face. “Even if you push through it, we’ll still have to move slower today.” Jaskier shoved down his surprise as realization dawned on him. The Mage had been talking about understanding other people. About knowing what they want.The bloody mage had made him able to read minds.CW: non-explicit references to rape/non-con
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Adventures in Mind Reading [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1702603
Comments: 37
Kudos: 1303
Collections: Just.... So cute...





	Half of a Mind of You

**Author's Note:**

> This is based on a post from Tumblr, that I lost track of and I'm sorry about that. I also should be working on either of my WIPs but this is what came out. 
> 
> I hope you like the story and y'all are staying sane during this whole quarantine/social distancing thing.
> 
> If you like what you read, drop a comment and a Kudos.

Honestly, it was Jaskier’s fault for getting himself caught in this. Then again, how was he to know that his lovely distraction for the evening (a truly wonderful woman with such soft breast and eager words) was engaged to a mage? She certainly hadn’t mentioned it when she was flirting so openly. Nor had she mentioned it after thoroughly exploring every inch of the bard. (What can he say? He likes to be manhandled and she was very good at it.) In fact, it hadn’t come up until said mage had stormed into the room afterward. That had led to some very hasty dressing and a chase that was mostly pointless. It had only ended up leading the mage right to where Geralt was waiting, behind a closed door at the top of the staircase blocked by the mage and not expecting Jaskier for several hours. The mage glowered down at him.

“Right, I’m truly sorry. I had no idea she was engaged,” Jaskier started, but his voice stopped working at a gesture from the other man.

“You should have,” he growled. Jaskier stepped back. “Any good lover knows when their touch is unwanted.” If he could have made a noise, he would have snorted. His touch had not been unwanted. “Do you force yourself on your own beloved without knowledge of what they want?” Jaskier felt his face flush in outrage. He had never forced himself on a soul. He knew very well how that felt and swore he would never be the cause of that hurt to anyone else. He glared right back at the mage, absently moving up the steps until his body was frozen in place. “I won’t kill you,” the mage decided. “But I will teach you a lesson.” He pressed a hand flat against Jaskier’s forehead and searing pain traveled through his whole body, clouding his vision.

The next thing the bard was aware of was the sun on his face. His head still hurt, like a bad hangover, but he knew it was likely whatever curse the mage had placed on him. He shifted up and was thankful that he wasn’t collapsed on the stairs of the inn, though he had no earthly idea where he was. Someone had collected him and laid him on a bed. It wasn’t a particularly comfortable bed, though. Glancing around the room revealed a pile of armor in one corner and his lute in the other. He fell back onto the bed. So, he had ended up in their room. And Geralt hadn’t killed him or tied him up so whatever the curse was, it couldn’t be that bad. After resting his eyes for a few more moments he forced himself out of the bed to get ready for the day. All things considered, he felt perfectly well. Nothing felt out of place and his voice was even working again. For the life of him, he could not figure out what the mage had done. What lesson was he meant to learn from nothing? Paranoia? He shook the thoughts out of his head and had nearly succeeded in dismissing his worry when Geralt entered the room.

“Ah, Geralt. How are you this lovely morning?” Jaskier spun around grinning. The Witcher grunted and rolled his eyes.

_“If you hadn’t passed out drunk last night, I might actually believe you think it’s a lovely morning.”_

Jaskier froze. He had been looking right at Geralt. Had seen that the man wasn’t talking, yet he had heard Geralt’s gruff voice. He took a breath, making himself continue moving, packing their stuff as Geralt eyed him warily. Then he dropped some bread on the table and gestured for Jaskier to take it.

“Thank you, dear Witcher. I suppose we’ll be leaving soon?”

“Hmm.”

_“If you can walk with that hangover I can smell on you.”_ Once again, the voice came with no movement of Geralt’s face. _“Even if you push through it, we’ll still have to move slower today.”_ Jaskier shoved down his surprise as realization dawned on him. The Mage had been talking about understanding other people. About knowing what they want.

The bloody mage had made him able to read minds.

Well, at least the ability to read Geralt’s mind. He’d have to pay attention when they left to know if it was just Geralt or if it was anyone. Jaskier munched on the bread, finding himself quiet as Geralt’s inner monologue made itself known. It mostly consisted of a checklist and wasn’t particularly interesting, save for whenever golden eyes landed on the bard. Then the thoughts were interesting, even if they weren’t particularly flattering.

_“He even eats slower when he’s hungover.”_

_“Why does he insist on fucking someone in every town?”_

_“He still doesn’t own proper boots for travel. Maybe I should just get him some.”_ That one took him by surprise. Why would Geralt want to get him boots?

_“Why is he being so quiet today? I don’t think he drank_ that _much last night.”_

Jaskier shoved the rest of the bread in his mouth and scooped up his lute. “Right then, Geralt. Shall we?” He gestured for the door. “I’m sure we have quite the journey ahead of us if we’re to find any contracts for you this week.” Without waiting for a response, verbal or mental, Jaskier left the room with his things. As he made his way to the stable where Roach was waiting, he tried to listen to the people around him. Specifically, he tried to listen for their thoughts, but none came. So, he concluded, either no one was thinking, or his new ability was limited to Geralt. Which unfortunately made sense. After all, the mage had been talking about understanding those you love, and the only person that Jaskier truly loved was Geralt. He may fall in love briefly for whoever shone the brightest in a tavern or had the strongest arms or softest skin. But every night he’d return to his Witcher. No one knew him better.

That still left a large problem. Jaskier knew that he’d have to tell Geralt about the curse eventually, but now that meant explaining why he was only hearing Geralt’s thoughts. Which meant telling him about his feelings. That was something he truly didn’t want to do. He was pulled from his own thoughts as the Witcher strode past him and retrieved his mare. Jaskier waited on the street, knowing that Geralt liked to take care of Roach on his own. When they emerged, Jaskier had decided that he would tell Geralt about his curse as soon as they left town. Geralt eyed the bard as he led his horse down the road.

_“How are his eyes so bright when everything else is so fucking dull?”_

Jaskier stumbled.

“If you fall, I will leave you behind,” Geralt said.

_“What if he’s sick and not just hungover? Do I have enough for a healer?”_ The bard forced himself to keep moving, even if he didn’t trust himself to respond like he usually would. _“He’s still being quiet.”_ Damn the Witcher for being observant. He could wait until they were out of town to tell him. He had too. If Geralt got mad, as he was sure to, Jaskier didn’t want the townspeople to see it. The Witcher didn’t deserve any more animosity directed his way. They kept moving, though slower than Jaskier would have liked. The longer it went on, the more he felt like an intruder. The monologue of his friend’s mind, though immensely entertaining at times, was his alone and Jaskier shouldn’t be privy to every thought. Some thoughts were so innocent.

_“There’s another cat. I wish they’d let me close enough to pet them. The last cat I got close to had really soft fur.”_

_“There’s a bakery. It smells like those tarts that Jaskier had last night. I wonder if that’s where he got them. They were good.”_

_“No one is looking at me. I guess that means that those damn songs are working. I should find a way to thank my bard.”_ (Jaskier had to keep from gasping at being called ‘my bard’, earning him a strange look from Geralt.)

Some thoughts were simply sassy.

 _“That man smells worse than I do. If I smelled like that, I think Jask would just shove me in the river.”_ (The nickname nearly stopped his heart. Geralt frowned at him, slowing down again.)

_“I’m glad I don’t have to smell that tavern again. I’d rather smell the insides of a Selkimore.”_

The most surprising thoughts were the one about Jaskier and they made it very hard to keep himself moving. Every time golden eyes fell on him another thought of care would pass through the Witcher’s mind.

_“He doesn’t look as pale now. Maybe I shouldn’t be so worried. Then again, he’s still not talking. Jaskier always talks. I almost miss it.”_

_“He didn’t fix his hair today. It looks nice messy.”_

_“I wish he’d at least hum or something. It’s too quiet.”_

_“I wonder how he’d react if I called him Jask.”_

_“He doesn’t smell like anyone else right now. I guess that means he didn’t fuck anyone, last night. Good.”_ Jaskier stopped moving, no longer able to control his response. Why did the Witcher care if he’d gone to bed with someone? Why was it good?

“Jaskier,” Geralt sighed. “What ails you?”

Jaskier couldn’t meet his eyes. “It’s nothing, dear Witcher. Still trying to recall the latter half of last evening. I had a bit too much to drink, as I’m sure you know.” He tried to put on his normal face, smiling and winking at the other man. It was received with a frown.

 _“He’s lying to me,”_ Geralt thought.

“Jaskier,” he said again.

_“_ I’ll tell you once we’re out of town. It’s nothing to fret about, my friend. At least, not right now.” Jaskier smiled and walked on, trying to keep away any more questions. It worked, but it didn’t really calm Geralt down.

_“What am I missing? Is he hurt? Did someone hurt him last night?”_ The Witcher’s thoughts swirled, getting more and more anxious as they traveled. Jaskier actively tried to keep his mind focused on other things. Counting the houses. Humming a song. Running through lyrics and poems. It was hard. Especially now that he was the sole focus of the thoughts coming from behind him. They weren’t really as far away from the town as he would have liked, but Jaskier felt like any further and the man may draw a sword on him. He walked off the path and into a meadow that he had found the day before while Geralt had been off on his contract. Golden eyes watched the bard carefully, thoughts, for once silent as he waited for the bard to speak.

“All right, enough pouting, Geralt. I’m not dying,” Jaskier snapped, finally meeting the gaze. Roach huffed at them before stepping off to munch on the grass and flowers. “I’m not ill or hungover or injured, so stop it with the concern. It’s really very distracting.”

“I never said I was concerned.” Geralt frowned.

_“I thought it, though.”_

“You thought it. And quite frankly, after years of hearing you deny you have any feelings, it’s somewhat overwhelming to suddenly know differently.” He clamped his mouth shut, suddenly, realizing that was not the way he’d wanted to say that.

“What do you mean ‘know’?” The growl was deep and angry. Jaskier stepped back.

“Ah, well, you see, dear Witcher, I did intend to spend the night in a lovely woman’s warm embrace last night, but I was stopped by her, erm, fiancé. And he was very nice about the whole. Didn’t even threaten to kill me, though, ah, he did decide to curse me, since he was a mage and all.” Jaskier stepped back again, risking a glance up at the White Wolf.

_“Cursed. That explains it. If he dies from it, I’m killing that mage.”_

“What kind of curse, Jaskier?”

“You see, he felt that I should have known that she was to be wed,” Jaskier started carefully. “And he was under the impression that I had been kissing her without consent, which I certainly was not. I would never even approach someone I thought wasn’t interested in me nor would I dare to touch another person without consent. It’s truly barbaric to think that someone in my profession wouldn’t understand the importance of…”

“Jaskier.”

“Right. Well, he thought that I wasn’t understanding what she was communicating and decided that I needed to learn a lesson from that. So,” Jaskier’s voice got quiet. “So, he cursed me to hear the thoughts of my beloved.” Jaskier couldn’t move. He couldn’t look up. He fixed his gaze on a purple flower at his feet, feeling the question coming as it formed between them. He cut it off before Geralt had parsed out how to ask. “I can hear your thoughts. Have been able to all day.” The bard’s voice was so quiet that he felt sure no human could have heard him. But Geralt had. The Witcher stepped away.

_“He can’t be telling the truth. He has to be lying.”_

“I’m not lying,” Jaskier sighed. “You’d know it I was lying, just like you did earlier when I said I couldn’t remember last night.” He forced himself to look up, feeling even more guilty than he had. Geralt’s eyes were wide and fixed on Jaskier. The look on his face was a mix between confusion and fear and was one Jaskier had never seen before. “I’m sorry, I should have told you earlier, only I wasn’t sure until we left the room and then I was scared about how you’d react and I didn’t want the town to see you if you got angry, which you have every right to be. And I’m sorry that this is how I have to tell you that I love you because this is just an awful way to do that.” Jaskier’s words abruptly stopped when a rough hand covered his mouth.

“Stop,” Geralt hissed. “You’ve been hearing my thoughts all day?” Jaskier nodded. He could feel himself shaking.

_“He’s scared_. _Of course he is.”_ The voice in his friend’s head sounded resigned.

Jaskier pulled the hand off his mouth. “I’m not scared of you. Geralt, I’m never scared of you.” He took a deep breath. “I’m scared of losing you.” He tried to make himself stop shaking, but it wasn’t working. Geralt just stared at him, mind seemingly empty, mouth slightly open. The silence seemed to stretch on for ages. “Please, say or do or think something, Geralt. Please.”

_“Not scared of me?”_

“Why?”

“Why, what Geralt? Why am I not scared of you? Why am I scared of losing you? It’s the same answer. It’s the same reason that I can hear _your_ thoughts, not someone else’s. I love _you_. I’m sorry if you can’t take that, and I can just leave and find someone to break the curse on my own, so you never have to worry about me again.” Jaskier stepped away again.

_“Stay.”_ Geralt reached for his arm.

“You’ve heard my thoughts all day and you think I’d want you to leave?” His voice was quiet. Jaskier didn’t respond. He didn’t know how to.

_“Those eyes should never look this scared again.”_ Geralt pulled him gently closer until their foreheads were touching. _“You should have told me sooner.”_

“I’m not mad, Jask, but you should have…”

“Told you sooner?” The Bard couldn’t help himself. Geralt raised an eyebrow.

_“Stop that.”_

“Can’t really. No control,” he muttered. He could feel his heart in his chest.

“We’ll have to fix that,” Geralt muttered back.

_“Even if it makes things like this easier to say.”_

“Things like what?”

_“I love you too, you dumb bard.”_ Then weathered hands were cupping his face and warm lips were on his. He hesitated before responding in kind, pleasantly shocked. He wrapped his arms around the Witcher’s neck pressing against him. When they broke apart, Jaskier was gasping for air. Once again, they rested their foreheads together.

“Dear Witcher, how long has that been true?” Jaskier managed.

“Hmm.” The sound rumbled through his body.

_“How long has it been since Cintra?”_

“A decade?” Jaskier kissed him again, pulling back quickly. “And I’m the dumb one, dear Witcher?”

Another hmm, followed by, _“I like when you call me that.”_ But then Geralt pulled back. _“Later.”_

“This can wait until you’re out of my head.” He stepped away, letting his hands fall back to his sides, and Jaskier let him go.

“Of course.”

“You’ve really heard everything I’ve been thinking all day?”

“Well, not everything. There were times when you were too far away.” He shrugged. “Or I was asleep. I tried to drown it out after a bit though. I know how private you are, and it felt so very wrong to be invading like that. Well, like this, I suppose.”

_“For anyone else.”_

“We’ll fix it.” Geralt grimaced.

_“If we have to.”_

Jaskier tilted his head. “Do you want to fix it?”

_“No.”_

“Well, it doesn’t bother me, but it’s your mind. I don’t ever want to intrude where you don’t want me to, dear Witcher.” He reached out to take the other’s hand but stopped himself. “Not to be too blunt, but it’s your decision. I can tune the thoughts out, so it won’t distract me so much. At least not now that I understand a bit more.” Jaskier smiled.

_“Like fucking sunlight.”_

“It doesn’t stop,” Geralt warned.

“And I do?”

The Witcher snorted. “Never. We could still see if a mage could undo it.”

“If you want to, I shall. And if you want to put it off, we can do that too. I don’t think it will get any worse.”

_“You don’t know that.”_

“I may not, but I do know that if it was hurting me, you wouldn’t even consider leaving it be. Now, answer me honestly Geralt. Does this curse of mine bother you?”

_“No.”_ Geralt grabbed his wrist and pulled him close again. They were close enough that Jaskier could feel their breaths mingling.

“Swear you’ll let me know the second it does,” the bard breathed.

“I promise.”

“Good. Well, in that case…” His words were stolen by another kiss.

_“Mine.”_


End file.
